


Any Day Now

by jessalae



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:04:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessalae/pseuds/jessalae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is probably a bad idea."  "Sex with me is never a bad idea."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Day Now

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XIV, with prompts engineering, bicker.

Jim revved the engine of his motorcycle angrily, glaring at the traffic light above him as if he could intimidate it into turning green more quickly. This had seemed like such a good night, to start with. One more day on Earth before he'd be off exploring the stars in his beautiful ship again, one really excellent double scotch in his hand, one petite redheaded civilian just about ready for her personal tour of a Starfleet Captain's quarters, all added up to a damn good time -- until the call came through from engineering. 

"Fucking civilian contractors," Jim snarled to nobody in particular as the light finally changed to green. He sped through the city so fast it blurred around him and screamed around a corner towards Starfleet's vast dry dock complex. 

"What the hell is going on here?” he asked loudly a moment later, striding into the hangar where his Enterprise was beached for what was supposed to have been quick routine maintenance. His words echoed against the high ceiling: the place looked deserted, no workers in sight. The workbenches were littered with tools and spare parts, though, and one panel at the front of the ship hung open, revealing colorful bundles of wires and well-oiled machinery. "Hello?" Jim called into the apparently empty space. 

A lone mechanic poked his head out from behind the open panel. "Ah, captain," he said. "Just the man I wanted to see." 

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Jim said. "We're heading out on our next mission in less than twenty-four hours, and I just got a call that my ship may not be ready in time.“

"Yeah, there were a few complications," the mechanic said, sauntering up to Jim and grabbing a rag off the nearest workbench. His whole appearance screamed "civilian" -- scruffy black hair, unshaven stubble around a reasonably trimmed goatee, t-shirt with the name of some 20th-century musical group and a weird glowy logo on it. More than that, it screamed "casual" -- the guy stood there wiping grease off his hands like he didn't have a care in the world, staring calmly into Jim's furious face. Maybe Starfleet had gone to Jim's head a bit, but he found the man's unimpressed attitude in the presence of a Starfleet captain almost as annoying as the maintenance delay. "Or not complications, exactly," the mechanic continued, “More like ideas I wanted to try out. These newer ships still aren’t anywhere close to the industry standard, but they have some interesting infrastructure that got lost in newer models, and I think with a few changes I may actually be able to put them ahead of the competition in some respects. I've got this new design for wing stabilizers that's just about ready to test--" 

"Changes?" Jim interrupted, looking frantically between the mechanic and the open panel in the Enterprise's hull. Who was this clown, and what had he been doing with Jim's ship? “Yeah, stop there, I need to speak to your boss right now." 

The man raised an eyebrow, and in the next second Jim's coolly observing brain caught up with his rage-fueled mouth, and he realized the glowing circle on the man's chest wasn't part of his t-shirt -- it was underneath his t-shirt. 

The man smirked at the look of dawning realization on Jim's face and offered him a mostly grease-free hand to shake. "Tony Stark. You may have heard of me." 

Well, duh. Everyone in Starfleet had heard of Tony Stark. His was a name that had been occasionally praised and routinely cursed in officers' quarters for the past year, ever since Starfleet high command contracted with his company to help design their new fleet of ships. What high command hadn't anticipated -- or maybe they had, and just didn't give a shit -- was that the Federation's leading civilian aeronautics corporation came with a bonus prize of the Federation's most unconventional-slash-pain-in-the-ass CEO. Stark had veered from his original assignment in a matter of days, demanding access to existing ships under the guise of studying Starfleet's current design philosophy in action. He'd gone through half the spacecraft currently docked in San Francisco, tinkering with their workings like a kid taking apart his mom's toaster — assuming that toaster was warp-capable and worth several billion credits. Jim should have known he would be the problem the second the call came down from engineering. 

All this went through Jim's head in a matter of seconds, which in his opinion was still far too long to be standing there speechless in front of a smug asshole who was totally unimpressed by his status as captain. "Mr. Stark," he said icily, taking the proffered hand with his best don't-fuck-with-me-or-I-break-your-fingers grip, "As much as I appreciate your work for Starfleet, I would really prefer if you could try out your new ideas on something that isn't my ship." 

"That's what the last guy said, too," Stark said. "But he was an admiral, so." He shrugged, pulling a what-can-you-do? face. 

Jim exploded. "The Enterprise was state-of-the-art five years ago, I understand that technology progresses rapidly but she runs just as well as she did when I first shipped out on her--" 

"She was not state-of-the-art, she was a bucket of nails next to the Stark Industries ships that came out five years ago, and she's a rusty bucket of nails next to our ships for this year--" 

"I've lived aboard her on an entire exploratory mission, and she serves the needs of me and my crew just fine. All she needed was a little routine maintenance, and if you can’t provide that, you have no business—“ 

Stark took a step forward, getting right up in Jim’s face. “Captain, with all due respect, your superiors gave me permission—“

Jim stepped forward as well — two could play the invasion-of-personal-space game. “With all due respect? You haven’t shown me an ounce of respect—“

“You walked in here screaming and treating me like some know-nothing grease monkey, how do you expect me to react to that? If I—”

“Well maybe if you had—“

“You should be grateful—“

“—informed me—“

“—highest technological standards—“

“—just a little common courtesy—“

They were so close together already that it was hard to tell who actually made the first move, or whether either of them had really thought it was a good idea until it was happening. Once the kiss started, though, Jim didn’t want to let it stop. He twisted his fingers into Stark’s hair and opened his mouth to Stark’s insistent tongue. The man was an excellent kisser, Jim had to admit, thorough and confident and not afraid to use teeth. Jim sucked on Stark’s tongue and tugged on his hair, pressing himself closer. Stark slid his hands under the back of Jim’s shirt, then reached down to squeeze his ass.

Jim broke away, gasping for air. He left his hands in Stark’s hair, though. “This is probably a bad idea.”

“Sex with me is never a bad idea,” Stark said, grinning sharply and leaning forward to flick his tongue against Jim’s lips. Jim leaned forward, trying to catch him for another kiss, but Stark arched his back and stayed just out of his reach. Jim snarled, but refused to chase him further forward. For a long moment, they were at an impasse. Then Stark’s smile twitched and he lunged forward into another kiss.

“Not bad, captain,” Stark said, worrying Jim’s bottom lip between his teeth. “You have more self-control than I thought you did.”

“God, are you always this annoying?” Jim asked. Stark laughed and dipped his head down to lick a stripe up Jim’s neck, grazing his teeth over Jim’s jaw when he reached it. His hands were still on Jim’s ass, massaging slightly but consistently. Jim tipped his head back and let his hands fall to Stark’s ass. He ground their hips together, letting Stark feel the erection that was clearly outlined by his jeans.

Stark let out a sharp breath and ground back, obviously just as excited. Jim kissed the side of Stark’s neck, stubble harsh against his lips, and started walking them back towards a workbench. As soon as the back of Stark’s thighs hit the bench, he let go of Jim’s ass and levered himself up to sit on it, then went straight for Jim’s fly. Jim made a noise that was part gasp, part laugh, part growl of approval, and returned the favor.

Stark’s fingers were surprisingly cold on Jim’s cock, and Jim shuddered. Then Stark started moving his hand, and Jim shuddered again for a vastly different reason. He leaned into Stark, mouthing hot, biting kisses down his neck and above the collar of his t-shirt. Stark hummed in approval. He produced a foil packet of lube from somewhere and tore it open with his teeth, handing it to Jim.

“You’re in charge, captain,” he said nonchalantly. When Jim pressed a lube-slicked finger into him, though, he moaned and bit his lip, easing his hips forward to push Jim’s finger further inside him. Jim watched, fascinated, as an aeronautics genius with a ten-figure net worth came completely apart under his fingers, writhing like a particularly enthusiastic porn star. When Jim finally fished a condom out of his pocket and lined himself up with Stark’s slick, stretched asshole, he was rock hard and panting even after five minutes of not being touched.

The first stroke left both of them gasping, Jim clinging to the edges of the workbench, Stark with his hands on Jim’s shoulders. Jim bent down to swipe his tongue against Stark’s lips, leaning back out of reach before Stark could deepen the kiss. Stark frowned, and Jim smirked.

In retaliation, Stark wrapped his legs around Jim’s waist and squeezed, pulling Jim deeper inside him. Jim bit back a moan. “Are you done messing around now?” Stark asked dryly. “Because it’d be great if you would just fuck me—“

Jim kissed him to shut him up and thrust hard into Stark’s ass. Stark moaned into Jim’s mouth, then sucked on his bottom lip. As Jim’s thrusts picked up speed, Stark left a trail of wet kisses along Jim’s cheek and up the side of his neck, ending up just under his ear.

“That’s it,” Stark breathed, pitching his voice low. “Fuck, fuck me, show me who’s boss. I deserve it, I screwed up your schedule, ah!” He gasped as Jim angled his hips to hit Stark’s prostate. “Yeah, right there. God, the second you walked in here I wanted us to end up like this, with your cock in my ass. You look so good angry, you know that, like you wanted to punch me—“

“I did want to punch you,” Jim said breathlessly.

“But this is so much better, isn’t it?” Stark grinned — Jim could feel it against the side of his face, could picture it perfectly for all he’d only met the man twenty minutes ago. “This is perfect, fuck, harder, and then you got all up in my face like that, shouting, so close I could feel—“

“God, do you _ever_ shut up?” Jim asked.

“Make me,” Stark snapped, and Jim grabbed Stark’s cock and stroked it fast and rough, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the underside of the head, fucking him as fast as he could until Stark’s mouth fell open wordlessly and he came all over Jim’s hand. Jim swore and let go of him, grabbing the edge of the workbench again so he could pound in harder and deeper. Stark’s legs were still wrapped tight around Jim’s waist, and when Jim finally gasped and came they tightened even further, holding him in until he could catch his breath.

When Jim peeled himself away, Stark looked pleased as could be, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth in a satisfied smirk. “Thanks for stopping by, captain,” he said. “I’ll take your comments into consideration.”

Jim sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face. “There’s no way she’s going to be ready to leave in twenty-four hours, is there.”

“No,” Stark said, grimacing with apparently genuine contrition. “But I’ll have her ready as soon as I can, I promise.” He unwrapped his legs from Jim’s waist and slid carefully off the workbench, looking around for his discarded pants.

“Good,” Jim said. “It was nice to, ah, meet you, Mr. Stark.”

“Call me Tony, I think we’re at that point, don’t you?” Stark said, flashing him a dazzling smile. “Come by any time.”

Jim finished buttoning his pants and headed for the door, casting one last longing glance at his ship. Then he turned back, struck by an awful — but entirely plausible — thought. “Hey,” he said. “Don’t you dare delay the repairs longer so we can have sex again. I won’t do it if you’re behind schedule.”

Tony’s smile turned sly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jim clenched his teeth, then went for the door again, shaking his head in resignation. Fucking civilian contractors, indeed.


End file.
